


A Pumpkin for My Pumpkin

by al_ex_an_d_er_hamiltons



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Autumnal Fluff, M/M, Patrick has curls, Post-Canon, Post-Wedding, Short One Shot, The boys go to a pumpkin patch, and there is hand-holding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-08-23 13:00:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20243275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/al_ex_an_d_er_hamiltons/pseuds/al_ex_an_d_er_hamiltons
Summary: David wants to love the things Patrick loves, understand which things bring him joy and why. If that means spending spending time outdoors in the cold and getting elbow-deep into pumpkin guts, so be it.





	A Pumpkin for My Pumpkin

**Author's Note:**

> This is a very short and sweet little something that came to me as I was trying to fall asleep last night. I know it's only August but I love fall and pumpkin patches and I'm fully prepared for spooky season.
> 
> It's been awhile since I've posted because I've been stuck in a rut, so hopefully this is a sign I'm ready to get back into it! 
> 
> As per usual this hasn't been edited more than me giving it a once-over, so hopefully it isn't riddled with mistakes. 
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> P.s. Yes I KNOW psl's don't have any actual pumpkin in them shhhh just enjoy it

Patrick wanted to go to a pumpkin patch. David didn't really get the appeal; the process of carving pumpkins was repulsive to him, the idea of pulling out the stringy, slimy guts enough to turn his stomach. It didn't seem worth it to go through all that for the pumpkin to then be smashed by an unruly teenager, or else suffer a sad, slow descent into decay, eventually collapsing in on itself. David preferred his pumpkins in pie and/or spice latte form.

He liked the _idea_ of Halloween; Fall was his favorite season, candy and costumes and the color black among some of his favorite things. But the small-town rituals involved in the holiday were unfamiliar territory for him. Growing up, Halloween meant an annual, lavish masquerade ball at home, he and Alexis sneaking glasses of champagne instead of trick-or-treating with their friends. In Schitt's Creek, it was more about harvest festivals and bobbing for apples and, apparently, carving pumpkins to display in front of the store. David tried to suggest something that would be more aesthetically conducive for both the store and himself, like cute lanterns and handmade, locally-sourced fall wreaths.

But Patrick insisted, and so David found himself outdoors on a sunny but cold October Saturday afternoon, layered in sweaters and scarves, standing in the middle of a pumpkin patch on Heather Warner's farm.

David is trying to be a good sport, nodding encouragingly as Patrick points out one pumpkin, then another. David isn't sure what Patrick is looking for, tapping on the pumpkins, smoothing his fingers along the ridges. He seems to find flaws in all of them, though, because after 30 minutes of this he's looking dejected. Scuffing his feet in the dirt, hands shoved deep in his pockets, Patrick shrugs, muttering something about it being a silly idea.

David may not understand why it's important to Patrick, but he didn't stand in a cold field for half an hour to go home empty-handed. He looks around the patch half-heartedly, trying to figure out if there are any pumpkins that might meet Patrick's nebulous standards. He wanders over to a corner of the patch that he didn't see Patrick look at, bending over to prod a pumpkin experimentally with his fingers. The pumpkin is perfectly round, bright orange, no ugly bumps. David knows nothing about pumpkins, but this one looks pretty good to him.He hefts it up into his arms, snapping it off the vine, and stumps back over to where Patrick is still pouting.

"Is this one okay?" David holds it out to him. Patrick's eyes light up as he takes it, turning it in his hands as he inspects it. He looks back up at David for a moment, his expression unreadable, and David's heart sinks as he sets the pumpkin down at his feet.

But then Patrick's face breaks into a grin as he tells him it's perfect, and David beams back at him.

Patrick is wind-blown and pink-cheeked and David doesn't even really mind the fact that he can smell the goat barn from here, because suddenly Patrick kisses him and his mouth tastes like apple cider, his lips slightly gritty from the cinnamon sugar-covered donuts they had eaten when they first arrived. He has a beanie pulled low over his ears, the curls he'd been growing out since the wedding peeking out from underneath. His red flannel shirt is soft beneath David's fingers, splayed across his chest, and Patrick's cold hands are seeking warmth in the folds of David's many layers. Fall leaves are crunchy beneath their feet and the smell of a distant bonfire has leached into their clothing.

It's all very basic and twee and utterly small-town-charming, and David finds himself completely and suddenly enamored with this holiday, this tradition, this man holding onto him. He wants to love the things Patrick loves, understand which things bring him joy and why. If that means spending spending time outdoors in the cold and getting elbow-deep into pumpkin guts, so be it.

Patrick steps back from David, face flushed from the cold or the kiss or both as he bends and picks the pumpkin up. Settling it into the crook of one elbow, he grabs David’s hand with his free one.He’s practically skipping, swinging their clasped hands gently between them as they head back to the car, his childlike joy at something so simple written all over his face and his body language.

Every time David thinks he couldn't possibly fall any more in love with Patrick, decides that that his heart must be at capacity, he finds a little corner with room yet to grow.

Patrick’s joy is infectious, and David smiles at his husband, reminded once again, by the simplest of things, how beautiful his life had become since they’d met.


End file.
